


Does the sun shine (during lock down)?

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Series: Marie's Events and Bang Fics [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Arguing, Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Steve Rogers Feels, Stony Loves Steve 2019, Stress Baking, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: The last thing Tony expects when he wakes up that day is the very thing he finds in Pepper's office, or rather, the very person.Old flames do they ever really die down? Maybe not, but does Tony have the luxury to find out when he has to think about Peter's well-being first and foremost?Or when Pepper is worried, makes a decision, and Tony's life spins on its axis, once again.





	Does the sun shine (during lock down)?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nixie_DeAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixie_DeAngel/gifts).



> My Stony Loves Steve fic! Hope you, dear giftee, will like this! I've tried to combine a few of your prompts and have had a blast writing this!
> 
> And thank you to the mods for organizing this amazing event! Can't wait to see what everyone created!

 

Tony's sleeping habits are the thing of his loved ones' nightmares - too little sleep or none at all, all-nighters pulled every three days or bedtimes way past any kind of reasonable hour. Not today.

Today Tony wakes up with a start and immediately thinks something's wrong. There has  to be - it's 9 a.m. and that never happens.

He never gets up at this hour, hasn't since Peter entered and brightened his life. He either doesn't sleep at all or wakes up when Peter does, also known as _sunrise_. On the dot. Every day.

So naturally, Tony scrambles out of bed the second his brain catches up with what his eyes are reading on his clock. He pushes himself up and almost trips over his pjs. He swings the door open and something feels  off, but he can't put his finger on it. Not until he gets to Peter's bedroom and the bright light of day doesn't greet him the way it usually does.

The blinds are down and Peter is still sleeping soundly. The blinds are never down, Peter doesn't like them down.

Tony's frowning so much his brow is starting to ache until he gets to a cliché eureka moment and storms off to the office Pepper occupies in the house.

Malibu Mansion, the house he'd decided to go back to when he made the call and vowed to be the best father a little boy could ever have. A house that offers everything they need and more. It's t's not like Peter isn't the easiest child anyone could ever wish to have.

He doesn't bother with knocking, too pissed off at what he thinks Pepper's done to mind his manners.

"Tell me you did _not_?" Tony speaks softly but there is no mistaking the anger that rattles his frame. He stays standing in the doorway, his hands on the door handle and his glare on Pepper.

The worst part is that she doesn't even look up right away. No, she takes her sweet time finishing whatever she's been writing, capping her pen before putting it down. Who even uses pens anymore?!

Only then does she look up, her arms crossed over her chest with that knowing smile she only reserves for Tony. It's not really a smile. It means she thinks she knows better than he does and he's only throwing a childish fit for the sake of it.

She's generally right. But Tony will only ever admit to that way after the fact, however, so right now isn't an option and both of them know it.

It doesn't change the way she clicks her tongue and sighs heavily like he's some cumbersome disturbance she has to deal with. And maybe he is but--

" _Pepper_ , what did you do? Why is my hyperactive kid still asleep at 9-flibbity-a.m.?"

Tony is half-tempted to tap his foot on the carpet flooring of Pepper's office but he refrains. He wants her interested enough to give him a straight answer, not pissed off enough to tell him to get lost without an explanation.

"The lock down procedure is on, but you figured that out about three seconds after you realized Peter didn't wake you. So why don't you ask the right question for once?"

Tony stares at her for a second, bites back a nasty retort he'd regret later before narrowing his eyes.

" _Why_ did you press the metaphorical lock down button that sealed my entire house closed, down to the window sills?" he tries to use the sing-song tones she hates. Now that he's asking, though, he's actually interested in the answer,  and he stops midway through. She notices. Of course she does.

He sees her gaze waver for a second before she sighs again and drops the bomb that is the news she has yet to have shared. "Death threats. We've been receiving a few since the last talk you gave for the next Stark Expo," She raised a hand to stop Tony's cry of surprise, "It calmed down for a while so I didn't tell you about it. I figured you have other things to worry about. But then you did the press conference and they came back, some much more worrisome than we've ever had to deal with."

Tony gawks at her, for once reduced to silence while he processes the new data. It's not the first time he's received less than pleasant letters, but not since he turned the company around and even less since he took a large step back from the spotlight to be there for Peter.

This is news if there ever existed news, and Tony doesn't know what to say. Judging by Pepper's face it's serious. Serious enough for her not to tease him on his uncharacteristic silence.

It doesn't last long.

Not when the next words out of Pepper’s mouth are those, “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about anything, I hired you a bodyguard.”

And she looks _proud_ of herself even.

 _"What?_ You are kidding, right? Tell me  you're kidding?”

Tony's eyes are wide and unseeing, except for the stray look Pepper seems to give to her left. Tony catches the movement and he's just about to try to recapture her attention and demand more explanations when his grip on the door shifts. The wooden barrier moves slightly, expanding his field of vision, and he gasps.

“What the--?” Tony tries, his hand  sliding from the handle as his arms fall limp to his sides. “No way.”

He stares at the person who'd been sitting unseen off to the side.  It isn't the fact that someone is there that shocks him. He should’ve known she wasn’t alone just by the way she was dressed - way too classy for a Sunday morning at the house. He should have known that, but _this_ he could never have seen coming.

Tony manages to wrench his eyes away from the man who’s in the process of standing up from the chair he’d been occupying. He looks back into Pepper’s confused eyes and squeaks - he’ll never admit it but he does, he squeaks -  “Happy?”

“On his way, but he was in Norway. Family holiday or something,” she says. Tony would have made a hasty retort of asking since when Happy had a family he liked spending holidays with, but he found his throat was constricted, dry and uncooperating.

“And you had no one to call but this guy, seriously?” Both his eyebrows are raised.  The way Pepper stands up in one smooth motion tells him she’s angry, but he couldn’t care less. This isn’t one of those times she’ll be able to lecture him on how to treat people. Nope.

She’s gearing up to yell, he can tell, but Tony’s new _bodyguard_ interferes before she can say anything. He raises a gentle hand in her direction.  His eyes are seeking Tony’s and filled with reassurance when Tony finally decides to meet them. Bullshit.

“Tony, I’m sorry. I know this must be surprising as hell, and I swear I didn’t know the job concerned you when I first applied--”

“Oh yeah? And what part of 'Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries will receive you' did you not get? Or even easier, what _did_ you get from “Malibu Point 10880, 90265, ring for Tony Stark” once you passed the first round of interviews? Huh? What did you understand then, _Steve_?”

Pepper’s mouth forms an “o” that might have been comical in pretty much any other everyday situation, but this isn’t it. Tony only chuckles darkly. He passes both his hands over his face like it will make this _joke_ disappear altogether, but it doesn’t work and Tony feels sick and ridiculous. He shouldn’t be reacting like this, or at least not in front of them, and certainly not in front of the other man - he doesn’t deserve to be there and witness Tony’s anger. None of it.

“Tony, please,” Steve does his hand thing again and Tony snorts but doesn’t interrupt him again. “The first interview mentioned the death threats, and I know things didn’t end the way either of us would have wanted it back then, but I couldn’t just walk away now that I knew you were in danger. I couldn’t, I’m sorry.”

Tony stares at Steve, then swears under his breath before doing a half-turn to face Pepper. “Oh yeah, in case that wasn’t clear, we used to _fuck_ ,” he says to Pepper’s narrowed eyes. She pinches the bridge of her nose and he barrels on. “I don’t need a bodyguard,”

She doesn’t miss a beat, exasperation seeping from every note that forms her reply.  "Yes. You. Do."

Her tone is meant to be final, Tony knows. He would keep arguing but the baby monitor he always carries when Peter isn’t in the same room as him starts making noise in his pajama pocket.

He takes it out and nods to himself, “Whatever, Pete is up.”

And true to his word, Tony leaves the room, the door still open behind him as he goes to the kitchen.

He makes a beeline for the fridge, trying to school his features so his son won’t notice anything’s up. He retrieves the refrigerated pacifier he uses for Peter’s sensitive gums and pads towards Peter’s bedroom again.

The moment he opens the door completely and catches the sight of his curly baby, all worries and resentments vanish.

“Good morning baby crawler,” Tony kneels by Peter’s head in his brand new big boy bed, “Sleep well love?”

Peter’s brown eyes are staring at Tony, wide and crumbly with sleep still and Tony’s heart never feels so full than in this moment. The boy nods and reaches out with both his hands.

Tony smiles and hands him the pacifier, makes sure Peter puts it well into his mouth before extending his own arms for Peter to fall into.

“Here we go, huh, breakfast or cuddles first?”

Peter nuzzles Tony’s jaw, wiggling a little on his hip to get more comfortable. “Cuddle-snuggle-wiggle,” he says and Tony laughs, his nose lost in his son’s curls.

“Alright, couch then.”

 

\---------------------------------

 

Steve is frozen in place. His feet feel heavy as they support his stance while he looks into the void left by Tony’s retreat from the room. He knew Tony would react like this, or at least similarly. He also knew he had a son because it came up in the interview, but several things caught him off-guard nonetheless.

The intensity of Tony's anger. The way he'd debunked Steve, fiery and rattling him to his core. The exasperation in his gaze when he looked at Pepper that he'd tried to hold onto, but which had softened in a show of how close they were.

The way his pajamas hung loosely and so, so very well-fittingly around his legs, and the way it made Steve’s heart beat a little faster. Not sure that’s a good thing. Certainly not a welcome one if the automatic sneer that had come to distort Tony’s features when he’d seen him is any clue he can go by.

Pepper looks angry too, but she hides it quite well.  Too bad Steve is trained to notice that very kind of thing.

“Any time you were planning on telling me you two used to be involved?” she finally snaps. Steve feels bad but he can’t help filing away the protective veil that’s taken over Pepper’s whole stance.

“Not really, no,” Steve answers, figuring honesty is always the best course of action. She sighs, then squares her shoulders. He continues before she can anything. “I should go.”

And it’s her turn to chuckle now. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere, I’m afraid. 'Lock down procedure,' remember? It wasn’t just a phrase, Mr. Rogers. The house is locked and will remain so for three days.”

“Three d--”

“Why do you think he threw a fit in the first place?” She steps away from her desk and motions for him to move ahead of her. “Let’s go grab a cup of coffee. He’ll come around, eventually.”

Steve follows her to the whitest, most modern kitchen he’s ever stepped foot in. Then  again, he shouldn’t be surprised - this _is_ Tony’s house. He sits on the stool she shows him and accepts the steaming coffee she places in front of him.

He’s still nursing his cup when a bright giggle pulls his attention to the left and he gets a glimpse of two brown-haired heads moving around a large white leather couch. The giggles keep on and Steve smiles as if on reflex.The sound is too sweet to resist and given the intensity of it, he guesses Tony must be in the middle of tickling his son like crazy.

He wonders what it would have been like, what _they_ would have been like, if he’d never left. He only allows it to last a second. Much safer to wonder how Tony even got a child to care for in the first place - last time he’d seen him, a child couldn't have been any farther from the man’s plans.

The volume at which Tony cleared his throat brings him back from whatever place he zoned out to and Steve’s head whips around, eyes wide.

“You still there?” The tone is biting and it’s all Steve can do not to flinch.

“Well--”

“LOCK DOWN, ANTHONY EDWARD STARK!” Pepper whisper-shouts.

“Oh true, you did that.” He glares at her with both his eyebrows raised, as if defying her to say anything else before his attention goes back to the task he came here to accomplish in the first place.

He jerks his head to the side before barking as quietly as he can, “You mind? You’re in my way.”

Steve immediately gets up, not bothering to apologize. Tony wouldn’t care either way. He watches him go through the cupboards integrated to the island, careful not to swing any door too loudly even though his anger is visible in all his movements. He takes everything out and doesn’t look up from his breakfast preparations when Pepper talks again.

“Tony, we need to figure out where those threats are coming from.” Her voice is gentler now, not quite pleading but a tone of voice Steve figures is more natural to the way those two interact on a daily basis - she has an office in Tony’s home after all.

Tony sighs heavily, granting her a minute look before concentrating again on his pouring powdered chocolate in a bottle, “Oh yeah? And you called Steve here instead of Rhodey or Nat to do that? Really?”

Once again, Steve is impressed by the way Pepper doesn’t let herself be tossed around and replies on the spot, “Oh no, I called him to look after you and Pete, so you can focus on him and I can handle the rest.” _In peace_ goes unsaid, but still rings loud and clear in the room.

Tony frowns, shaking the blue plastic bottle in his hand vigorously, “I always fo--”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but neither of the others need to hear it with how Tony’s whole face changes the second they all hear Peter calling from the other room. “Pass me the blanket, please?” he asks quietly.

He reaches a hand over the island, and Pepper doesn’t take more than a few seconds to jump ship with him and understand what he means. She passes him a blanket that looks softer than a cloud - a visibly well-loved piece of fleece fabric with the official photo of War Machine printed of it.

Steve is smiling before he realizes it. Just like that, Tony, the bottle and the blanket are gone and he can't quite refrain from watching him interact with the boy in the adjoined living room.

"He's three," Pepper says as if reading  his thoughts, "My advice? Get him on your side and Tony will be much easier to convince."

And then she's gone too. Back to her office, probably. Steve sits back on his stool and finishes his barely hot enough coffee.

It’s quiet for a while and Steve is contemplating fishing his crayons and pad out of his bag, thinking that drawing always calms him. He could use that right now, his mind is swirling in an endless loop. He knew seeing Tony again wouldn’t be easy. He knew the man wouldn’t make it easy on him either.

All he’d said in the office was  true though. Knowing the man was in danger and backing out was never an option. It’s not in his DNA, never was. Not for anyone, and certainly not for people he’d once cared about - and still does care for.

Steve looks up when he hears rustling and Peter whine behind the couch.

“I gotta answer, Pete, come on,” Tony’s voice filters in, sounding muffled. When Steve gets up to put his now empty mug in the sink, he understands it’s because his face is basically smashed in the blanket Pepper gave him earlier.

Steve frowns when Tony’s phone starts ringing repeatedly. The man gets off the couch and out of the range of his son’s grabby hands. He’s still in his pajamas and Steve can’t help himself, he stares at him; at the lean lines of his hips and legs, and the curvier ones of his shoulders, the bulge of his bicep as he raises his arm to answer his phone--

“Rhodey, calm the flibbity jibbit down! Wait a sec,” Tony exclaims and that’s enough to set Steve in motion. The man looks like he could use some privacy.

He steps into the room cautiously. He doesn’t want to interrupt but the conversation sounded like it was on the urgent side and Peter was having trouble letting go.

“I can watch him, you know, if you need to step away for a bit?” Steve’s offer ends up sounding all but confident and he only barely holds on to his flinch when Tony squints at him.

Peter tugs on his sleeve to get his dad’s attention before bobbing his head in a nod. Tony sighs.

“Okay, I won’t be long,” he says, then continues in the phone for a second, “You hear that mother-hen? _It won’t be long_.”

Tony takes a long look at Steve.

“We’ll be okay, Tony,” Steve feels like saying and finally, Tony nods.

He bends down to kiss Peter’s forehead with a gentle hand ruffling his curls, “See you in a minute, tiny,”

“I’m not tiny!” Peter points at him, pouting, but Tony only chuckles and steps out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.

Peter turns to place his hands on the back of the couch so he can look at Steve. His eyes are narrowed in much the same fashion as his dad’s were a minute ago, assessing. Steve is almost ashamed to admit he’s scared shitless.

 

\---------------------------------

 

“My Daddy doesn’t like you,” Peter says once the strange man has sat down next to him on the couch. He pulls his Godfather’s blanket tighter around himself.

Daddy says he shouldn’t stare at people. But Daddy isn’t here now so maybe he can? He does.

This man is big, so much bigger than Daddy; almost like uncle Thor but not quite.

Peter picks up his hot chocolate bottle and starts drinking again. He’s waiting for the man to say something. He has a nice enough voice, he guesses, like he’s nice. But Daddy doesn’t like him so there must be a reason.

He looks like Peter does when the seat is too hard in the subway he sometimes goes on with his dad. He’s shifting and frowning. Then he smiles and he takes a deep breath like Peter knows Daddy does when he’s afraid or tired. Which is it?

Peter lets the nipple of the bottle rest on his chin as he continues to watch the man. His mouth has opened and closed a few times already but he hasn’t said anything yet.

“Why are you here?” Peter nudges him when he’s grown impatient. Daddy didn’t even tell him someone was here. He usually does; says he doesn’t want Peter to be surprised and get scared.

“Mrs. Potts asked me to come,” the man says, and Peter likes that he doesn’t use a baby voice like the bald man Daddy used to work with.

“Mama asked you to come?” Peter frowns. He lets the bottle slip out of his hands when he goes to pick up his spider plushie on the cushion next to him. The man is quick to get the bottle so it doesn’t spill and Daddy always told him to say-- “Thank you.”

The man smiles and nods. Peter doesn’t know if that means he’s welcome or if he’s answering his question. A new thought crosses his mind.

“What’s your name?” Peter asks, his eyes widening at the realization that he still hadn’t asked.

“Steve,” he answers and Peter nods, until he squints again. The man is watching him carefully and he sees his eyes twitching when he squints.

“Just Steeb?” he asks, because that would be weird.

“Steve Rogers,” the man answers again, and Peter hums.

“My name is Peter Benjamin Stark,” Peter extends his hands and Steve smiles but he shakes his hand.

Their little chat ends there because Peter knows it’s time for his cartoons and he doesn’t want to miss them, even if Steve is interesting. Cartoons are more important.

They watch in near silence. At one point Steve leans back to sit on the couch properly and Peter sees it from the corner of his eye. At another, Steve laughs in time with Peter at something Sid the Science Kid says.

Peter would really like to know why Daddy doesn’t like Steve. He rather likes Steve.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Tony comes back to find his son sprawled on the couch, legs parted and head thrown against the cushions, his plushie resting heavy on his stomach. He’s got this huge grin on that Tony loves so much and he breathes much better for it.

He knows Steve wouldn’t hurt him, he knows the man is probably perfectly capable of looking after a kid for half-an-hour but it didn’t prevent the tightening of his throat when he left the room earlier. And only to hear Rhodey talk his ear off about cautionary measures that made no sense with the house already on lockdown anyway.

Overprotective dork with too many weapons and people at his disposal, the Colonel.

Tony dives back onto the couch, swiftly lifting Peter till he can slip underneath him and sit him back on his lap. His arms wind around his lean waist and he loses his nose in his curls. He doesn’t pay any mind to Steve. Cartoons time is important.

They watch three more episodes and Tony just knows Peter knows that’s not standard procedure but he’s not unhappy he gets to watch more than usual today so he doesn’t say anything.

Then it’s time for lunch already. Tony never thought such a small human could eat this much - Peter proves him wrong every day.

It’s a feasty meal of the remnants of Happy’s frozen lasagnas. Peter is a mess any time they eat that but he loves them so much - and they _are_ so good - that Tony asks him to make some practically every time he visits.

Tony isn’t enough of an asshole not to make some for Steve as well and once he’s brought Pepper her own plate in her office, they all eat together. It’s weird and even if Peter doesn’t seem to pick up on it too much, the air between the two men is charged. Electric.

Tony focuses on his son.

“What’s your project today, Daddy?” Peter asks and thankfully, he’s swallowed his last bite before asking their ritual question.

Tony smiles. He picks up a stray napkin to wipe at Peter’s face - it’s hopeless without water but at least it’s only streaks now, instead of spoonfuls of tomato sauce covering his son’s cheeks.

“Honey Bear’s next suit updates, love, I’ll show you when I’m done okay?”

Peter makes a fist bump in the air that makes Tony laughs, always warmed to his core by Peter’s interest in his activities. Steve is silent but Tony can feel the weight and warmth of his gaze on the both of them the whole time. No one comments. He doesn’t ask questions and Steve helps him clear the table without a word.

“Can we have more lasagnas tonight?” Peter asks once Tony’s got him sitting on the edge of the bathroom sink and is trying to clean his face - that’s counting without Peter’s mouth running one way then another the whole time.

He’s fidgeting more than usual too, and Tony knows it’s because he knows something is up and wondering but can’t or doesn’t know how to ask.

“There’s no more lasagnas, baby, we ate it all,” Tony answers flicking his son’s nose simply for the pleasure of seeing him scrunch up his nose. “We could have pizza though?”

"Yay!" Peter grins and wiggles so much he almost slips but Tony steadies him with a hand to his stomach before picking him up again. "I can walk, Daddy," he says and he sounds so nonplussed about it Tony thinks he's not exactly looking forward to the teenage years.

He sets him down though, watching carefully as Peter toddles down to his room, his pull-up clearly hindering his smoothness about it. Tony smiles to himself.

When he gets to the room Peter is already sitting on his bed, crossed-legged and hugging his plushie. He makes an "o" with his mouth.

"Use your words, bug," Tony says, sitting on the floor with his side pressed against the bed.

"Do you got my paci?"

"Yes I _have_ it," Tony corrects discreetly and Peter rolls his eyes before opening his mouth again. Tony drops it and gives him the gold and red one, his favorite.

"You ready to recharge, champ?"

Peter nods repeatedly before letting himself fall backwards on the pillow with a dramatic sigh around the rubber in his mouth. As if there was any question as to whether or not he was Tony's son.

They look right into each other's eyes for a while. Peter's eyelids are getting heavier by the second now that he's all set under the comforter and Tony's heart never feels quite so full as when his son looks like this.

He starts humming gently, then singing more frankly but in a whisper still, _"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."_

Peter's asleep before the end of the first stanza.

Tony spends a little time watching him still, just taking in the quiet and the softness of seeing his baby boy so peaceful. It soothes aches he can't identify. It lulls him to the point where he could nap as well, if he let himself.

Which he doesn't. There's work to be done. And there's Steve, too, in his house and that's weird and uncomfortable but he can't really pinpoint why exactly nor how he feels about it, deep down, where he doesn't want to go.

He pushes himself up and walks out as silently as he can make his steps. He leaves the door open, second best since he can't open the blinds.

The workshop is Tony's next destination, but coffee seems like a good call right now. A siren call even. So he trudges back up to the kitchen and starts the machine again. He doesn't go see what Pepper is up to, he doesn't feel like it.

Steve is sitting in much the same spot as he was when they were watching cartoons earlier, his back pressed against the cushions in the corner. His head is bowed and by the minute movements of his shoulder Tony understands he must be drawing. That's right, that's his thing.

He doesn't engage, just makes his coffee and leaves the room.

The workshop is quiet as ever as he gets there, only the sound of Dum-E rummaging around the room for God knows what reason and that of JARVIS greeting him.

Tony had long ago restricted JARVIS's speaking possibilities to this room because he freaked out Peter when he intervened out of nowhere. At least here, Peter knows he can expect him to be a part of whatever conversation they're having. It’s good still, to hear the familiar voice of the man that once meant the world to him. It’s grounding in ways very few things in Tony’s life can claim to be.

Rhodey’s suit is already packed full of the latest SI tech there is, but Tony’s taken to roaming tech nerds forums and can’t get the blog posts he’s seen about stealth modes out of his mind. The way it was written clearly showed a kid was behind it, but it was all the more impressive if Tony was being honest.

He works on the processors and sensors necessary to make it happen for two solid hours before the coldness of what remains in his coffee cup forces him to get out for a drinkable refill.

He’s toed off his shoes sometime during the last hours and his steps are soft on the wooden floors of the corridor. He’s lost in thoughts and equations when he gets to the doorstep of the living-room, his eyes narrowed in concentration until they’re not.

Until they widen in surprise and he curses, almost loudly enough to wake Peter.

“ _Shit!_ ”

Steve was getting out of the room right when Tony got up to it and they bumped and the coffee left in Tony’s mug went splashing all over Steve’s shirt. In wide and wet brown jets. Down his front to his belt.

“ _Shit shit shit_ , are you okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t paying--”

“I’m fine, Tony,” Steve interrupts with a placating hand on his shoulder. A hand that burns on Tony’s skin, bare as it is now that he’s down to the white muscle shirt he normally wears under his shirts. “Thank God it was cold though,” Steve continues and Tony definitely doesn’t stare at the small smile in the corner of the man’s lips. No good going there.

Instead, he changes the focus. And most importantly, steps away from Steve’s space.

“Bathroom, lemme show you the bathroom so you can change out of this thing,” Tony says almost absently and darts out in the appropriate  direction before Steve gets a chance to say anything, or worse, smile again.

Tony's careful not to slam the door into the wall in his rush to get in the bathroom. He almost does.

He starts the water of the sink to a lukewarm jet so Steve will be able to rinse a bit and by the time the man catches up and enters, Tony's got a towel out.

"Here," he pats the towel next to the sink so Steve will know he can use this one, "Gimme your shirt, I'll put it in the wash." Tony says and then as an afterthought, adds, "Did Pepper tell you to bring any clothes?"

Steve is in the middle of pulling of both his once-crisp white shirt and the undershirt follows before he can answer Tony. That's...so unfair, Tony marvels. This is giving him way too many feelings he has no interest in stirring up.

The _chest_ on that man.

Steve clears his throat and Tony realizes that the process of undressing brought Steve just a tad closer and Tony has definitely been staring. Quite obviously so, if the look in Steve's eyes is anything to go by.

"She did, they're in my messenger bag by the couch I think," Steve smiles and Tony swears he looks a little smug for it.

The man's abs and pecs are right in his face, toned and a little wet around the spot where Tony's coffee went splashing and even the smell of him with that of the beverage is a little intoxicating. He has to get out of here.

Tony blinks, and blinks again, until he can _unstick_ his gaze from the mile-long planes of Steve's torso to look back into his baby blue eyes… no, that was another mistake. Tony can almost feel Steve's breath on his face and his eyes look so intense from this perspective. Tony didn't remember him being that much taller than him.

"Okay, I'll go get them, you… you do, _that_ ," Tony stammers and motions up-and-down, pointing at the sink with a finger he wishes he could rake down Steve's skin. He doesn't. He leaves the room.

He shakes his head at himself on his way back to the living-room. _What the fuck, Tony_. The truth is he knows how cliché this sounds, it sounds absurdly common to his own ears and that alone makes him cringe but, the way things ended with Steve back in the day? That was never enough for him to find true closure. It has been close to six years and yet, here he is, heart palpitating and palms sweating over the simple sight of him shirtless and the much less simple way Steve looks at him.

Tony almost bumps his way in the room and curses, for real this time. What is it about this room and not being able to enter it without stumbling on something? Next is going to be one of Peter's toys on the floor and he'll fall down or something.

Steve's bag is easy enough to spot,  brown leather bag set right by the side of the couch like he said. Tony kneels next to it and unzips it. The leather is nice under his touch, feels expensive. The contents of the bag are  neatly piled and folded just like Tony remembers Steve likes it, and when he sorts through Steve's clothes Tony realizes they're even color-sorted. _Dork_.

He finds what seems to be a comfy tee-shirt at the bottom of the bag, a faded grey cotton V-neck that's entirely suited to what lazy activities they're filling the day with.

He zips the bag closed again but just as he's getting up and ready to go back to Steve, Tony sees Steve's sketchbook lying where he been sitting. It's closed and it's black and it seems to glow surrounded by the white leather of the couch and Tony can't help it. He reaches out and takes it.

He throws Steve's tee-shirt over his shoulder and opens the sketchbook with his now free hand.

He gapes like a fish at the pages. The first ones seem to be older drawings, cityscapes, random people buzzing around a nameless street, coffee shops façades...you name it.

But then the drawings seem to take a more personal turn with portraits and anatomical studies of chests and arms. Tony is staring at a picture of a man he recognizes as Bucky Barnes, and even though he's part of the reason why he and Steve didn't work out, Tony can't help the awe he feels looking at the lines of the drawing, sharp and almost warm in their descent. Beautiful.

Tony traces the ridged page with his index before turning to the next one. He sits down for that one. Can't help it. Right here on the page is a pitch-perfect picture of his son. A detailed, shadowed rendition of Peter's previous position on the couch, his small shoulder peeking from under his blanket, his sharp collarbone taking the light and leading the way to his slender neck and the vibrant smile of his face. His curls are a mess, splayed on the cushion and Tony grins as he brushes the pad of a finger ever so softly over it.

The precision of the pencil strokes is staggering. Peter looks so alive on that page Tony can't help but blink to make sure it's still there when he looks again. It is.

He's so lost in it he doesn't think of turning another page to see if Steve's been inspired another drawing since he got here. He doesn't hear Steve's footsteps in the hallway either.

He does hear him clearing his throat to get his attention. Sitting as he is, on the edge of the meridian with his elbows on his knees, he sketchbook in his hands and Steve's tee-shirt still resting on shoulder, Tony slowly looks up. He doesn't even have it in him to feel bashful over the fact that he's be snooping in Steve's personal drawings.

It's too pretty, and his son is in there. Not that that's any excuse.

He says all this but doesn't say it aloud. He's once again battling with himself to try and look away from the white-light that are Steve's eyes. It's hard. Tony swallows and he sees the way Steve's gaze zeroes in on his bobbing Adam's apple.

Tony smiles almost distractedly, nostalgically, before he puts the sketchbook down on the couch and rises.

"Here's your tee-shirt." he pushes the garment in Steve's chest and leaves it at that.

He can hear Peter waking up in the baby monitor.

 

\---------------------------------

 

The rest of the afternoon and night go relatively well and Tony even lets Steve join them for dinner, which Steve once again spends reveling in the domestic bliss Tony and Peter share.

He doesn't say much, only answers Peter's rare and polite questions. He's such a good kid. He eats his pizza and smiles at the way Tony doesn't baby his son even though he's just a toddler.

They have whole conversations with each other. Granted, Peter's attention span is limited so the variations in subjects are numerous, but still. It's highly entertaining and just plain sweet - it warms him to his core to see the both of them so serenely happy.

To see _Tony_ living such ordinary happiness. It makes Steve feel things he didn't know were still there somewhere, or at least that he didn't admit never left.

Looking back and forth between father and son at the dinner table, Steve doesn't have a choice but to come clean to himself.

The way he's looking at Tony and the way he has to refrain from biting his bottom lip anytime Peter makes him laugh? That's not innocent. He knows it and by the looks Tony gives him here and there, he does to.

Neither say a word of it. Not when they clear the table together, same as they'd done after lunch. Not when Tony goes to read Peter's nighttime story. Not when he comes back to sit on the couch where Steve has already relocated.

No one says a word for the entirety of five episodes of Friends that both know the other knows by heart. No one says a word when Steve puts his sketchbook down on the coffee table and it's still open, and it's a picture of himself that greets Tony's eyes when he looks at it while pretending he doesn't.

Steve sees the way Tony's eyes widen just a fraction, he sees the way he seems almost scared by the minute smile that draws on his lips and he stops it from fully forming.

He wants to say something, or do something, anything, " _Tony--_ "

"Good night, Rogers," Tony chooses this moment to bolt out of the room and leave without looking back.

Steve sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sinks back into the couch for a bit.

His mind is restless and he knows he should go to the room Mrs. Potts indicated was his for the duration  of his stay, but he can't quite get to it just yet.

He pulls out his phone instead.

He shouldn't, he knows he shouldn't but he does it still - he googles Tony.

Steve's eyes widen with every new headline he sees. He frowns and his eyes crinkle in the corners, confusion and outrage bubbling inside of him at the nosiness of journalists and nastiness of bullshit online papers.

In the middle of all the obviously invented crap, one thing keeps coming back - laws of probability seemingly indicating it to be true - Tony withdrew from the spotlight after one of his conquests dropped a baby at his door. How in the hell people figured that out Steve can't tell, but it's easy to piece everything back together after he reads a few more articles. Peter calling Pepper _"Mama"_ had led him to logically think of her as his birth mom, not even questioning it. And yet...

It seems all these articles boil down to the fact that Tony put an end to the playboy life, the party life and all the spotlight craziness the second a mystery woman dropped Peter on his doorstep and he decided to be there for him.

It makes sense, given what Steve remembers of Tony's childhood and relationship with his father, that he wouldn't want to repeat that cycle.

Steve can't prevent the slow smile that makes its way onto his face even though the exact feelings behind it frighten him to his core.

When he'd seen the ad for this job he hadn't immediately realized SI stood for Stark Industries, nor had he seemed able to pinpoint why exactly the name of Pepper Potts rang a bell inside his mind. And then, what he'd told Tony this morning, it was all true. He'd not been able to back off once he'd known Tony was in danger, and now that he knows his child stands in  that particular line of fire as well? No way in hell is Steve letting it go.

Even if he begins to realize just how badly he's evaluated his capacity to _not_ react to Tony's presence and closeness. Steve sighs again.

He's never lived anything like what he had with Tony with anyone since he left for the army and left him behind. He's resented that decision ever since. He just _had_ to answer the call to join and fight for his country. It's a part of him, and even though he knows Tony's always known that and possibly loved him for it, he can't blame him for being hurt that he chose to enlist when they'd been so close to making things really serious between them.

They could have been living together by now, possibly have been married,  too, now that that's a thing they can do.

Steve passes his hands in his hair, his phone abandoned on his lap. It's all too much information to digest now and too many regrets he wants to be moving forward and away from. He's here now, and so is Tony, and he can't help but think that Peter cautiously likes him too, which, according to Pepper, is a good thing overall.

He goes to bed with the firm intention of trying to get Tony to talk to him the next day.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Whatever intentions he has, ideas of conversation starters and things Steve wants to tell Tony, he doesn't get to make any of it happen.

Tony spends the whole of their second day inside the locked down house avoiding him. Blatantly so.

They wake up around the same time, seven a.m.. Steve is twitchy from  his inability to go for his morning run, and Tony looks properly morning ruffled while he fiddles with his coffee machine. Steve says hi, Tony grunts.

Steve asks him how he slept, Tony grunts.

Steve tries to find something else to say or ask or _something,_ but Pepper walks into the room, fresh as a flower and dressed in her impeccably tailored skirt and jacket, and Tony grunts intelligibly this time. "You're taking him with you today. You got him here, you handle him, nothing can happen to Peter or myself with the house down like this. Peter is freaking out even if he can't say it, and I'm not okay with that."

Tony leaves the room before either Pepper or Steve can say anything. They stare at each other for a second and now that Tony's said it, Steve seems to remember hearing noises from across the hall during the night and he sighs.

"Peter woke up tonight. He doesn't usually wake up, does he?"

Pepper shakes her head with a cringe.

"Has Tony been difficult?" she asks then.

"Not really, given the circumstances. I expected worse," Steve says, a nervous kind of chuckle awkwardly escaping his throat.

Pepper smiles at him, an indulgent thing that Steve appreciates greatly for some reason.

"So, looks like you're gonna be living in my office today Mr. Rogers," she takes a mug and leads the way back to her office. Steve follows her with his own.

"Please call me Steve."

 

\---------------------------------

 

Tony spends the entire day with Peter, even napping with him when the time comes for that.

He knows Peter's fidgeting and lesser number of seemingly nonsensical questions the day before should given him a stronger hunch as to Peter's state of mind. He didn't see it.

Not until his son woke up screaming in the middle of the night and spent the remainder of it in Tony's bed, which hadn't happened for at least a year. Not since Happy had come out of the hospital and Peter had been sure his uncle was alright again.

Tony's worried his bottom lip raw for most of the night feeling guilty he hadn't seen it coming. He's cradled his son close and let him lull him back to sleep with his soft sleepy sighs and even softer breathing.

The moment he woke up he'd known he couldn't just expect Peter to take a stranger being with them all day for two days in a row with no explanation. So here went Steve and Tony could focus on giving his son his sense of normalcy back.

It's also giving him time to think things through. Everything that's been pushing against the barriers he's built in his mind. And everything he's found out about Steve coming back from the Middle East when he guiltily googled him last night.

His heart did a looping back and forth from its cage to his throat when he found out about Steve's unit and long time friend Barnes disappearing in the middle of nowhere with no trace of them whatsoever. Looking back, he thinks he might have been a little too hard on Steve when he found him in Pepper's office but well, how could he have known?

Anyway. He spends his day reconnecting with his son and even  though they spend a decent amount of time together every day, this is still the most attention he's been able to give Peter in a really long time. It feels good and it's so much fun, too.

Tony looks at him and he sees the last three years of his life, from Peter's bombshell arrival in his life to his first nights here and how he and Pepper had the worst time getting him to sleep, to his first steps and first words and before he knows it, Tony is wondering what it would have been like to have Steve alongside him during all this.

He wonders how the man would have been with Peter as a baby, his larger than life hands and heart surrounding Peter's tiny frame and bright eyes.

He knows Steve's always liked kids, and from what Peter told him, however succinctly, he did great the day before too.

Tony smiles at the thought that they might have been a family if Barnes hadn't convinced Steve to enlist six years ago. He smiles because it doesn't feel like as much of a sore spot anymore, not like it did at the time and not even like it did the day before. He smiles because he's always known, deep down, that it wasn't right of him to resent Steve for choosing to go down the path of duty instead of staying behind, with him, against everything that screamed inside of him that he needed to get involved somehow.

He's always known that but he was never able to form the thought in his mind without getting angry nonetheless, not until today. Not until he knew Steve was right there, safe and sound and his own life had taken such a turn that he couldn't regret a minute of the last few years.

Steve is here right now, and so is Peter, babbling and making sound effects with his construction blocks while looking at Tony with big brown eyes full of glee and love.

All that feels quite full of possibilities in the light of Peter's kiddie ceiling light.

Tony gets around to talking to Peter about why Steve is here and why it's a good thing and why he shouldn't be scared, because now there's both Daddy and this big blond man to protect him.

"But you need protectin' too, Daddy." Peter says in a very final, very grown-up tone. His little brow is furrowed in reflection and Tony smiles.

"Well, Steve is here for that as well, baby," he says and Peter's face lights up. His head whips around from where he'd been staring at the wall. His curls bounce around his head and his eyes seem to carry the same smile his lips do.

"Great! I like him." He nods before he goes back to building the biggest city he can with blocks of as many different colors as he's got and that's the end of it.

 

\---------------------------------

Sleep comes easily to Tony that night which should have been suspicious, it never does, but he welcomed it. Until he wakes up at 2 that is.

He really should have known better by now. He's not part of early-sleepers club, never has been and now he just knows it's gonna be hell to find sleep again so he gets up.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Tony makes his way to Peter's bedroom to check on him. He smiles with all his teeth at the way Peter is laying, all limbs astray and mouth hanging open. The picture of relaxation.

Next he goes to the bathroom to splash water over his face - there's nothing like cold water to chase the remnants of sleep away.

He's in the middle of doing just that, tap open and pouring steadily, when he hears it. A metallic, thudding sound that repeats over and over. It's dull but it seems to come from the kitchen.

Tony makes his way there as quietly as he can. The hallway is dark save for the soft light coming from the open doorway to the kitchen - the overhead lights of the counter, he deduces.

He halts by the dresser to retrieve the pocket knife he hid back when he found Peter was looking at it a little too interestedly. It's nothing much in terms of weaponry but it will do for now.

So here he goes, all bare feet, flannel pajamas and pocket knife drawn and ready to stab whoever is standing past the doorway.

Tony squints and very dramatically finds the light switch, ready to shout at the intruder and pin them down if he has to.

"Who the…" Tony starts but stops himself once he recognizes Steve, all six feet of him, elbow deep in cooking pans. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Steve looked up when Tony turned on the light and now he's, well, laughing his ass off apparently. Tony frowns, unamused, until he realizes he's still holding his two inch-long knife up like he's going to attack the other man, and he figures that that must be funny indeed. He sets the knife down on the kitchen counter.

Tony smiles a little, taken by the way Steve's face looks when laughs this genuinely. He looks at the oven clock and yes, it's nearing 3 a.m. now.

"No but seriously, what the fuck are you doing at this hour?" Tony huffs looking at the mess Steve's made of his kitchen.

That sobers Steve up a bit, he looks almost shy for a second and then, fleeing Tony's gaze, he says, "Stress-baking."

Tony is silent, just trying to figure out how that even works, but Steve goes on before he can ask.

"My therapist suggested it after I came back from Iraq. Said it might be a good way to release stress without harming anyone or myself. It generally works."

Tony nods, thinking again about what he's learnt from the few articles he found on Steve's stay and departure from the army. "Is it working now?"

Steve nods, smiling this time and Tony swears he can see relief wash over the man's face, like he was expecting Tony to yell at him for doing this or something.

"Can I ask why you needed it tonight?"

Steve's eyes zero in on Tony's fidgeting hands until Tony grabs a wooden spoon he didn't even know he owned and plays with that instead.

"Er...Pepper showed me the letters. I didn't like them," Steve finally answers, and that's good enough for Tony. He doesn't even want to know what's on those, doesn't need to.

"Can I help you?" he asks after another bout of silence has settled between them.

"Yeah, come here," Steve says, a real smile coming Tony's way, and even though he can feel the flutter it puts in his stomach, Tony doesn't miss a beat. He goes to stand next to Steve and follows his instructions.

In the end, making muffins in the middle of the night is quite fun, and Tony thinks that, if he gets to spend some quality time near enough to this man that he can see the dust of flour caught in his lashes, this night turned out okay.

He's staring at Steve's face, the concentrated way he frowns as he scoops spoons of batter after spoons of batter to fill in the pans he's got ready on the counter. He knows he is obvious as he does it and isn't surprised at the side look Steve gives him.

He isn't surprised at the small smirk that makes his way on Steve's face either.

"You're staring at me," Steve whispers like he's telling him a big secret.

"I'm aware," Tony answers in much the same tone and it's his turn to smirk when Steve pauses.

It doesn't last long. Not when a deep sigh escapes his lips a second later about the same time he finds out just how sticky Steve's fingers are from the batter - when he frames his face with them and kisses him.

It's soft, and short, and Tony's heart goes crazy from it. His eyelashes are fluttering lightning-fast when Steve draws back, searching his face and biting his bottom lip.

Tony tries to shake it. It's a little hard to do under that gaze. It's a little hard to do when he all he wants right now is to kiss the other man again.

But he doesn't. Instead, he bites his own lip, smiles around it and grabs the pan they've already filled with muffin batter.

"Now, where were we," Tony almost whistles.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Steve takes his morning coffee on the stool he sat on the first day he got here, smiling to himself. Tony is busy getting Peter up so Steve has a minute to gather himself.

He blinks the fatigue away - he'd already been in the kitchen for close to an hour when Tony found him and even then, he'd only managed to get a few hours of sleep in.

The content of the letters Pepper had reluctantly showed him had danced a dance of worry and fury in his mind for hours on end before Steve had let go of all hope of getting any sleep.

Now he's glad he did get up. The night he's just spent with Tony as his silly sous-chef gave him a breather he didn't know he needed this much.

They'd spent nearly three hours baking together and Steve thinks he hasn't felt this free in a long while. The kiss they'd shared might have a little something to do with that, too. Maybe. Steve smiles.

If there's anything he's learnt about himself and that those terrible letters reminded him, it's that he can't let his life go past him. Not anymore. Not after Iraq.

And it seems he's been given this gift, getting Tony back into his life at a time where he wandered lonely and aimless.

Tony gets back into the room with a sleepy Peter on his hip. It's Steve who retrieves the soothing pacifier from the fridge.

He hands it to Tony as if he's done it a hundred times before, and the man smiles at him so vibrantly Steve feels it like a punch to the gut, if a punch could feel like butterflies flying around his heart.

It's the last day of the lock down, Steve doesn't know when exactly it's supposed to stop but when he sees Tony and Peter sitting close together on the couch and the child turns his head around looking for him, he thinks it doesn't matter much.

"You comin' Steeb? It's cartoons time!" Peter nearly shouts and Tony laughs and Steve cannot help but do the same.

"I'm coming," he answers to the back of Peter's head.

He sits down next to Tony and if their shoulders touch and if their knees are pressed against one another, well, he's not mad about it. Tony doesn't seem to mind it either, if the way he fishes Steve's hand out the moment Peter is focused on his show is anything to go by.

They'll be taking it slow, Steve is sure, and it's a good thing for all parties involved, but children will be children and Peter seems to be one step ahead of everyone in this.

"Are you gonna be my daddy, too, Steeb?"

**Author's Note:**

> I might revisit this particular AU in the future, I have a lot of love for this version, hopefully you guys do too!


End file.
